Closer Than You Think
by Raven-Haired-Artist
Summary: When a serial killer claims NXT Diva Sasha Brock's cousin as a victim Sasha vows to find the killer after she's promoted up from NXT.Her cousin's lover, John Cena, appoints himself & the Shield as her bodyguards. Ambrose takes the task very seriously & doesn't let Sasha out of his sight. Can he keep her safe with his friends' help? Better summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** R (For violence)  
**Contents/Warnings:** Extreme Violence  
**Pairing:** Dean Ambrose/OC-Sasha Brock  
**Disclaimers:** I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE or TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.  
**Summary:**

When grizzly murders start piling up within the WWE, NXT Diva Sasha Brock is scared for her cousin, Larissa, who works on the Creative Team. Informed that she will be promoted to work in WWE's main rosters, she sees it as an opportunity to watch out for her cousin. But soon, her fears come to pass and Larissa is found murdered in her office at a Florida arena. Sasha is racked with grief but digs for the courage to get through the tragedy and makes it her mission to find Larissa's killer. Determined to investigate, she plans to do anything she has to in order to find her cousin's killer-including using herself as bait. Till rough-around-the-edges Dean Ambrose enters the picture. He hardly lets Sasha out of his sight. Sparks of both passion and anger fly between them as the pressure mounts on their shoulders. "I'm not going to let you get yourself killed," he growls at her.

When danger lurks closer and closer, will Sasha discover her cousin's killer? And can Ambrose keep her safe?... Or could he be the man Sasha is seeking to prove guilty of her cousin's murder? After all, every murder has occurred around the WWE. The killer could be anyone. Now, Sasha's in his sights and he's _Closer Than You Think_.

**Prologue**

_**Evil Is Born…**_

_"When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can't stop it, the monster goes on, and hurts me as well as society…"_

_~Dennis Rader (BTK Killer)~_

Being born was the biggest mistake I ever made.

I learned very soon in life that my mother never really wanted me. She reminded me all the time how she wanted a little girl but was instead stuck with a boy.

Things got worse when she left my dad. He took everything out on me. He was drunk every day of his life. And I was beaten every day of mine.

By the time I hit my teen years, I was completely filled with rage. I didn't know how to deal with it, so I did what many people in my situation end up doing. I would pick fights at school and bullied younger, smaller kids. This would result in my getting sent to the principal's office many times over. This brought about more beatings, of course. And I would grow even angrier. But there wasn't much I could do about it, except to bully some more. It was a vicious circle.

My dad died in a drunken car accident soon after I turned eighteen. I was finally free.

But not for very long.

After my dad was killed, I was glad to live on my own. Omaha suddenly became more peaceful to me. Quiet. I could do as I pleased. However, I only had about two years of freedom before sheer hell came on me slow and easy.

I met the woman I would marry. Her name was Debra. I met her one evening at the bowling alley where I worked. I can't believe how quickly I fell for her. She was beautiful. She had long, dark hair. Her ivory complexion accentuated her big, pale blue eyes. She was slender, but had curves in all the right places. She was the most sweet, and loving girl I'd ever met.

Debra just seemed like a dream. I thought I'd found the one woman who would show me that not all females were like my mother; selfish and manipulative. Instead, I had married a girl who was as manipulative as they come.

Soon after our wedding, her true colors came through. She cheated on me, and wanted to control everything. The money, the house, what cars we bought...everything. She was verbally abusive for the first several years of our marriage. And when she saw she could get away with it, she became physically abusive as well. She started out just slapping me. But then she graduated to punches and throwing hard objects at me. I wanted to hit her. I really did. But I knew I'd end up in jail, because who would believe such a beautiful, angelic-looking woman was abusing me? I wasn't going to end up in prison because of her.

Looking back, I should have just left her. But I didn't. I put up with her for five years. Why? I honestly don't know. I wish I did.

All I do know is I had a new rage building up in me. And I couldn't bully kids to soothe it away anymore. So, I found another way of unleashing my rage. I began preying on stray animals, and lost pets. I would collect them, take them out to the woods behind my house and torture them. It felt good to make something feel the pain and anguish I felt nearly every day of my life. The little creatures had it easy though. Their torture and pain only lasted minutes. I was enduring a lifetime of it. Soon, I ran out of victims. It seemed as though I had cleaned the neighborhood of strays, and caused the owners of their lost, beloved pets to lose hope. I even put the animal patrol officer out of business for the summer.

One night, I'd finally had enough. We were arguing about money, as usual, when she let loose and kicked me in the balls. I fell to the floor gagging in misery. I took the abuse as I always did, but in my head I was already planning.

I was going to kill my wife.

Over the next month, I added enough cash to my secret savings to get fake IDs, a used car under my new name, hair dye, and anything else I needed to make a clean get-away. I just needed to figure out how I would kill her. It had to be flawless.

I went out to the garage to think up the rest of my plan. I knew the time of my retribution was very near, and it seemed to ignite my fury. I was so angry just thinking over my sham of a marriage. I knew I wanted to do the most painful thing I could to Debra.

My eyes fell on some rope and picked it up, planning to tie her up with it. As my hand latched onto it, however, a roll of barbed wire tumbled to the cement, and I froze.

Barbed wire—even better.

I picked the spool up instead and realized then that I would have to work fast in order to tie Debra up. I figured, what with being bigger and stronger than she was, it shouldn't be difficult to accomplish. I smiled when I imagined the look on her face when she saw what I had in store for her. I had just finished polishing up the plans in my mind when I heard Debra's voice behind me.

"Dinner is read—Hey, what are you doing with that barbed—"

SMACK.

I spun around, slapping her right across the mouth. She fell to the concrete almost silently, too stunned to react. She just lay there sobbing quietly and holding her mouth. Then she seemed to get control of her pain and fear, and glared up at me.

"Never thought I'd hit you, huh," I taunted her. I moved fast and had the razor-sharp wire around her wrists in mere seconds. Reaching upward, I grabbed some wire cutters from a worktable, and trimmed it. She whimpered then as I pulled her to her feet, dragging her into the house through the kitchen.

I grabbed a knife off of the tiled counter top. Then I pushed Debra down to the floor. I could see by the trembling of her body, she was too frightened to run.

"Don't speak," I whispered to her. "Or I'll kill you slowly. I never want to hear your obnoxious, evil voice again. Am I clear? Nod if you understand."

A mixture of fire and fury shown in her gray eyes and she glared disdainfully at me. "You're not man enough to kill me," she growled at me as a small stream of blood dribbled out the corner of her mouth. She tried to free herself from the barbed wire, but discovered it was far too painful to struggle with.

"Oh, I am," I smiled at her. "Trust me. And I told you not to speak."

Fear replaced her fury once more as realization crossed her pretty features.

She cowered in the corner, and was unable to force down the sob that erupted from her lips. I stepped over to her and didn't hesitate in slashing up her face. She cried out and put her hands up to protect herself, which didn't stop me. It just angered me even more. I drove the knife right through one of her hands and twisted it. The sound emitting from her was like nothing on this earth. Finally feeling a little bit of relief I grinned.

"That hurts, huh?"

I then slit her throat deliberately slowly with the knife. But before she was able to die, I then, inch by excruciating inch, pressed the knife into her stomach and ripped it upward, savoring the sound of her flesh tearing and her crimson blood splashing onto the floor.

Finally I was free. I could start over.

Quickly, I washed off the knife and took it upstairs with me where my bag had been packed and hidden in the back of the closet. I shoved the murder weapon into the bag to dispose of later. I wanted to get the thing as far from the crime scene as possible.

Changing into a clean pair of jeans and black polo shirt, I tossed my dirty clothes into the bag to discard at another time and place as well. Looking around one last time, I hurried out the back door and headed into the woods. I'd parked my secret car about a mile from the house.

In about twenty minutes I'd be out of here for good. I felt a huge smile spread across my face as I thought of how well my plan had worked so far. I hoped the cops would assume I'd been taken somewhere and killed. Turning into a cold case would be perfect.

When I reached the vehicle, I tossed my bag in the trunk and got in the car. I grabbed the map I'd stashed in the glove compartment and plotted out a route to Albany, New York.

Why Albany?

I'd never been to Albany before. Never mentioned the place in my life. And I needed to be random in choosing my destination just in case the authorities were on my tail. I also planned on being frugal with my funds for a while. If I was discovered, I needed to be prepared. I wanted to be able to get up and leave in a moment's notice if I needed to. But I wasn't complaining. I was finally free. I was going to live life to the fullest.

And I did for a while.

Until my pesky little need to inflict pain on the female population returned, that is.

About a year had passed since I killed my wife and stepdaughter. I was beginning to feel angry again—irrationally angry. The wrath I thought I'd finally buried, still consumed me. It had always been there, just under the surface. I needed to find yet another way to deal with it. I wanted to punish my wife and Ginny all over again. But, of course, I couldn't because they were dead—long dead.

Nonetheless, the idea of retribution soaked up my every thought, and I was desperate to do something about it. I had an epiphany then, it all become so clear in my mind.

What difference did it make if I took my revenge out on my wife, or just women in general? Women were all the same anyway! They all deserved the torture I so utterly wanted to bestow on them.

I came up with a plan one night when I was flipping channels on my television and came across a wrestling program. I watched as two scantily clad women scuffled and frolicked around in the ring, completely for the men's benefit. I was repulsed as their breasts all but fell out of their tops.

And then it hit me—this was it!

I wanted to hurt any promiscuous, strong-willed woman and make them pay, because that's what I hated in my wife. Women had to always rely on a man to take care of them but yet treated them like dirt. They were manipulative horrible creatures, and they had to pay for it.

As I watched the two female wrestlers, I realized they were truly no better than Debra. Or even my mother. Their beauty was only on the outside, and they used their looks ruthlessly. They were doing nothing for society, unlike what I planned to do for the world. I would dedicate my life to ridding the world of their filth.

One whore at a time.

And what better place to start than in the wrestling industry? There were plenty of trashy women to slaughter.

I just had to find my way in...

And I did. I learned everything I could about the wrestling business. Then I entered into a school and learned to wrestle and how to referee. I even covered all my bases and worked with ring crews to set up wrestling rings and stages in arenas.

Thanks to all my training and preparations, I soon met my next victim—a young blond student wrestler. She wanted to sleep with me one night, so I obliged her. Right before I slashed her throat. I discovered sex was another way to dominate women. They had NO control over what I did to them. But I discovered one little problem.

You see, part of me wanted to rid the world of filth—and I still do. But I have to take care of my own needs first.

I find the idea of reenacting the killing of my wife to be very therapeutic. But if I want to feel as though I am indeed killing her again—over and over— I need women who resembles her physically as well as in her actions.

I need dark-haired women.

Blondes and redheads are not going to work.

At least they won't for now. Their time will come though.

I have my eye on the perfect girl right now. She is the spitting image of my burden. But I need to experiment with my craft first.

This is my art.

And art takes practice...


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

Sasha Brock switched her cell phone to her other ear and grabbed a fruit salad out of the hotel room's mini refrigerator while she spoke with her cousin, Larissa Anderson.

The two women were actually more like sisters than cousins. Not only did they share the same physical attributes: long black hair, pale skin and identical gray eyes, they also had grown up living next door to each other, went to school together, spent weekends at each other's houses and watched their beloved wrestling together. They were virtually inseparable. They even planned for their careers to be in the same industry. Larissa wanted to write for World Wrestling Entertainment, while Sasha wanted to wrestle for them.

Then came Sasha's unforgettable eighteenth birthday—the day she'd been waiting for her whole life.

Sasha had applied for entrance to Funking Conservatory Wrestling School a couple weeks prior, and almost as if fate was giving her a birthday present, she received a letter of acceptance that very day. She'd ripped into the envelope with a vengeance and then cried tears of joy when she saw the printed words informing her of her acceptance.

"Mom! Daddy! They accepted me," she'd squealed happily, jumping up and down. "I'm moving to Ocala!"

She was lucky in finding an apartment near her school within the week and was soon on her way to living her dream. Excitement filled her heart, but so did sadness. She had never been away from her family for more than a week. _How will I handle being away from them permanently_, she wondered. _I know I'll be able to visit them, but still… I'm living on my own now. I'm starting my life._

The day came when she left for Ocala. She hugged and kissed her parents goodbye, and then latched onto Larissa. "I'm going to miss you all so much," she cried. "I didn't realize how hard this would be."

"You'll be fine, Sasha," Larissa whispered, hugging her cousin tightly. "In fact, you're going to be amazing! I can't wait to see you on TV," she encouraged.

"You're going to make me cry," Sasha smiled through her tears. "I love you."

"Love you too. Now go get to school and show the veterans how it's done," Larissa teased. "I'll see you at WWE Headquarters in a few years."

Larissa sounded light-hearted for Sasha's benefit, but for a long time, she felt alone. However, she knew Sasha was doing what she loved. And so was Larissa. She had entered college a year before to major in English and minor in Journalism. Three years of very hard work later, she graduated and within a month had secured her dream job. Writing on the creative team for _World Wrestling Entertainment_.

Four years later, she worked up to both writing and producing—which was how she met her boyfriend, Jim Walker.

"Work is going great." Sasha answered her cousin, as she mentally returned from her reverie of the past. "I've been NXT Diva's Champion for about six months now. Hopefully, I'll get to keep it a while longer. I get afraid every time I get my script that I could learn I'm about to lose the title to someone." She took a bite of pineapple then, "So how is everything with you? How are you and Jim doing?"

"_Work is also going great for me. Very busy_," Larissa chuckled. "_All these storylines and the deadlines that go with them are about to wipe me out, but I'd not have it any other way_."

"Well, I'm so glad you are enjoying it. We were both so blessed to get the exact jobs we were wanting," Sasha smiled, genuinely happy for her cousin. "So, how about Jim? Are you still having problems?"

"_Not anymore_," Larissa answered. "_But that is probably because we broke up about two weeks ago. He just became too controlling and jealous for me to deal with_."

Sasha felt terrible for her cousin. She knew how crazy about Jim she had once been. "I'm so sorry, Larissa," she said. "I wish there was something I could do."

"_Don't worry, Sasha_," Larissa told her. "_I'm doing much better without him. The ordeal just taught me that being single isn't nearly as bad as being with a jerk_."

"That's true," Sasha agreed whole-heartedly. "Well, I really hate to make this a short phone conversation, but I have got to get to bed early so I can work out in the morning and get ready for tomorrow night's show."

"_No worries. I understand completely,_" Larissa told her. "_I just wish our schedules would calm down a little so we could get together. Or even if all the brands had a week of being in the same state_."

"I know, I miss you so much," Sasha said softly. "I hate that we never get to see each other."

"_Maybe soon we can_," Larissa said, hope in her voice. "_I'll let you get to bed now. Goodnight, Sasha. Love you_."

"Goodnight. I love you too."

With that, the two women disconnected the call and got back to the tasks of their everyday lives.

0o0o0

_That Night In Philadelphia_…

"Dana," Jarold, the night manager of Denny's called out. "Table nine needs more coffee!"

The restaurant was swamped and buzzing with excitement. The building was full of wrestlers and wrestling fans from the live event that had occurred only three blocks away.

"Okay, I'm on it," Dana called back over the dull roar of adoring WWE fans. She grabbed the non-decaffeinated coffee pot and headed to the table that a man was seated at.

"I assume you want regular and not decaf," she flashed him her charming smile, trying to get as good a tip as possible, and brushed her dark ponytail back over her shoulder flirtatiously.

"Yeah, that'll be great," he smiled back at her. "I guess you're staying pretty busy tonight, huh," he conversed as she filled his cup up.

Dana enjoyed the sexy rasp in the handsome man's voice and immediately became nervous. _I must look awful after being around this greasy atmosphere all night_, she fretted. "Well, I wasn't super busy till about a half hour ago," she chuckled. "But hey, I'm in a large room full of gorgeous wrestlers. So it's worth it," she joked.

"Well, I'm sure you have every male eye in the room locked on you, flashing that smile of yours," the man said, just the slightest hint of disdain entering his demeanor.

_Did I imagine that_, Dana wondered. _Or maybe I'm just really tired and reading too much into his behavior_. He seemed friendly enough, but there was some thing dark, sinister in his eyes. Like Dracula, hot and sexy, yet evil and cold-blooded.

_ He's handsome_, _I'll give him that_, Dana thought. B_ut then again, so was Ted Bundy_.

"Well, enjoy your coffee, sir," she said, suddenly growing uncomfortable. "And if you need anything else, just let me know." She smiled kindly this time, with no flirting whatsoever, and headed back to the waitress station.

The young woman stayed busy for the next two hours re-filling coffee, soft drinks, serving desert, collecting dishes and wiping tables. Her only comfort was that she'd made about two hundred dollars in tips, which she'd poked very securely into her waitress apron.

Finally, at about midnight the diner was close to empty so Dana began performing her end-of-shift duties, to prepare for the next waitress' shift. She wiped down all tables and booths, cleaned the coffee machines and soft drink machines, took all dirty dishes to the back to be washed, then prepared to take out the garbage.

Minutes later, she was hauling two large trashbags along with her as she hurried out the backdoor and to the huge dumpsters in the dark alley.

"Why can't these dumpsters be closer to the building," she grumbled under her breath, as she hefted the bags up into one of the large receptacles.

And then suddenly, the hair on her neck stood on end. A cold chill ran down her spine and she visibly shuddered.

"You should have had someone else take the trash out…"

Dana had no time to react, a knife was at her throat instantly.

A hand clamped over her mouth, "Don't scream…" The raspy voice told her, "Or this will hurt more than it has too."

_ Oh my God,_ Dana panicked. _Please somebody come out here…She prayed silently, Somebody come check on me_…

But there was no one nearby. Nobody to hear her whimpering cries. Nobody to see as the serrated edge of the blade viciously tore into her pale throat.

And nobody noticed for a long while that she never re-entered the building…

0o0o0

Sasha reached over to the nightstand and picked up the receiver of the in-room phone which was ringing incessantly. "Hello," she uttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"_Miss Brock in room 509," came a pleasant female voice._

"Yes, this is she," Sasha said, fighting off a yawn.

"_I'm just delivering your 7 A.M. wake up call ma'am. Would you like me to make a follow-up call in five minutes?"_

"No, thank you," she replied. "I'm awake enough, so that's not necessary."

"_Okay, Miss Brock. Help yourself to a complimentary breakfast in our cafe. Have a nice day._"

"Thank you. You have a nice day too." She hung up the phone and stretched with a soft groan. "Ugh…seven o'clock already…."

She stood to her feet then and turned on the television to get the morning news while she prepared for her day. Listening to the weather forecast, she discarded the black satin nightgown she'd slept in and grabbed some workout clothes out of her suitcase. After pulling on a pair of pink yoga pants, a black sports bra, and layered an off-the shoulder black t-shirt over a pink tank top she stepped into a pair of running shoes. Within minutes her teeth were brushed and she began pulling her hair up into a messy bun when the words "brutal murder" shot her attention to the television. Her gaze froze on the TV screen as she listened in.

_ "…In Philadelphia late last night a brutal murder has the city in turmoil. Live in Philadelphia, Jack Cooper has the story."_

"Philadelphia…" Sasha whispered, worriedly. _That's where Larissa was last night._

The feed cut to an area at the back of a restaurant taped off with police tape, with Jack Cooper facing the camera.

"_The body of thirty year old, Dana Marshall was found outside in this very alley of Denny's restaurant at approximately 12:20 this morning. When the murder was first called in by the late shift's manager, Jarold Carver, the police's first impression was robbery due to the fact that the manager had reported that they'd had a very busy night and that the young woman had made nearly two-hundred dollars in tips. However, when they arrived at the scene it was a different story. Dana was found lying on her back with her throat and entire body slashed. _

A photograph then popped on the television screen of a woman who was obviously Dana Marshall.

"My God…" Sasha whispered.

The woman looked so much like Larissa and herself it was uncanny. The only major difference is that Sasha and Larissa were a few years younger and had longer hair.

Suddenly unnerved, Sasha turned the television off and tried to get herself mentally ready for the day's events. But the images of what she had seen and heard were engraved her mind.

"Denny's…" she thought out loud as she rubbed some tension out of her neck. Grabbing her phone off the night table, she pulled up Google and typed out "Denny's restaurants in Philadelphia", then picked the first link offered. She scanned the page for the street address of the establishment and was distressed to find the address was merely three blocks away from the Thompson Stadium-where SmackDown had been taped.

"Why is this creeping me out so bad," she asked herself. Then shook her head to clear it. "Ugh...I'm just being paranoid. Get a grip, Sasha."

Making sure she had her room's key card in her wallet, she grabbed her gym bag and stuffed a change of clothes into it and then she hurried out the door intent on grabbing some coffee on her way to the gym. And then she was going to work the strange new tension out of her body, even if it killed her.


End file.
